


tell me more (and then some)

by skitzofreak



Series: love, honor, respect [1]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dirty Talk, F/M, Jyn fights with more than fists, Jyn is bi, Swearing, and it shows a little, and she fights dirty, but just in case, possibly not that explicit, some social opinions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-05
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-12-11 12:52:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11714775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skitzofreak/pseuds/skitzofreak
Summary: For the life of her, Jyn can’t figure out why he always looks so damn indifferent to everything when he’s clearly anything but.She’d really like to figure it out.OR: Cassian is repressed and Jyn is irritated.





	tell me more (and then some)

**Author's Note:**

> This is the only College/modern AU I will probably ever write, because honestly Cassian and Jyn without their trauma is a little hard to conceptualize. But I couldn't think of a situation wherein this conversation could take place otherwise. Also, I hate Pygmalion, sorry not sorry.

               

Jyn’s in a bad mood, and it’s all Cassian Andor’s fault. Again.

Five months, she’s known the man, five bloody months of seeing him almost every day in more than half of her classes. Five months of sitting right the hell next to him in this very Social Theory class for almost two hours, twice a week. Five months of running into him just about everywhere, even outside of campus, because somehow he’s become mates with her brother. Five months, and Jyn can count the number of times he’s spoken to her (beyond general social pleasantries) on her fingers.

The worst of it is, she really _wants_ to talk to him, and this is not a compulsion that Jyn often feels.  But the few times he has spoken with her about anything of substance, he’d been intelligent, direct, and kind of hilarious in a dry way.  Better yet, he was a damn good listener. When Jyn got herself in a passion about, oh what was it that time? The disparity of criminal law, that was it. Cassian had been over to study with Bodhi, and Jyn had been in something of rage over that rich white boy’s court case that had been all over the news a few weeks ago. Bodhi, who hated confrontation in general, had stammered about drinks and shuffled off to the kitchen. Cassian, however, had leaned back into their couch and in a totally unironic tone asked her what she really thought.

“Another entitled little wanker smarming his way through social loopholes,” Jyn had snarled, “thinking that whatever he wants is just his for the bloody _taking_.”  Cassian hadn’t looked exasperated or even annoyed by her tirade, unlike most of her friends who were long used to Jyn’s opinionated outbursts. He’d answered some of her comments with his own, pointed out a few details she’d missed that didn’t negate her opinion but at least gave it some perspective. Hell, he’d even asked her some questions, directed her anger more at society than just Privileged McShitHead, asked her what she would do to change it. It had been… comforting. Calming. He’d even leaned towards her, eyes intent, watching her hands fly about as she punched the air for emphasis. There’d been a moment, just a brief one, where she’d thought about leaning forward too…

But before she could carry that thought further, before she could even ask him his own opinions, he’d stood up and patted her shoulder in an absent sort of way, and been out the door without so much as a good night.

And they haven’t spoken since.

In fact, he barely looks at her, even now as he sits not two feet away in Social Theory. He’s got that cultivated neutral look on his face, the one that makes him look like he’s mildly bored with everything he sees but is too polite to show it. His long legs are stretched out in front of his seat, his hands folded carelessly over his stomach, his head slightly bowed. He looks like he could drop off at any moment. Jyn had been fooled by that for about ten minutes when they first met, until she’d noticed the way his half-shut eyes are always moving, sliding from face to face, sweeping around the room, marking everything that happens. Professors who try to catch him off-guard with questions are always disappointed, because he answers readily and thoughtfully every time. For the life of her, Jyn can’t figure out why he always looks so damn indifferent to everything when he’s clearly anything but.

She’d really like to figure it out.

But he’s just as clearly not interested in letting her, so Jyn reacts to that as she reacts to all rejection: with anger.

It doesn’t help at all that the subject of today’s group discussion is just shy of maddening. The Professor has gone on conference, so the TA, a pleasant-faced young woman with curly dark hair and laughing eyes, is leading the discussion. “So do any of you feel,” she’s saying with a thoughtful expression on her face, “that Pygmalion’s story would be accepted in modern society the same way that it was in Ovid’s time?”

“They’d make a blockbuster out of it,” one guy answers.

“Nah, a rom-com,” laughs another guy, “My girlfriend would love that shit.” Most of the class titters with him. Jyn wants to roll her eyes, because frankly she doesn’t find the concept particularly funny.

“It’s more of a horror story,” another girl says quietly, and the first guy, some frat boy by the look of him, cuts her off.

“Some statue comes to life and seduces a dude? Guess I could see that.” He smiles indulgently at the shy girl, who looks quickly down.

“She didn’t _seduce_ him,” another girl protests, and Jyn mentally high fives her. “I mean, he carved her to look like his ideal woman, and then asked the gods to make her real. Like, she’s the first sexbot, isn’t she?”

“But she married him,” Frat Boy replies, “so you know, she loved him. It’s cool.”

 _Sure_ , Jyn thinks at him, _totally cool,_ dude. She wants to turn to Cassian – no, no, _Andor_ ; if he doesn’t want to be friends then he doesn’t get his name – she wants to turn and say, _this is how rape culture flourishes_ , or _you’re not buying into this shite, are you?_

She peers surreptitiously over at him; his eyes move restlessly between the speakers but otherwise he hasn’t moved a muscle since she came in. His face gives away nothing, and he never glances her way. Forget it, she grumps to herself. Forget him.

“He was the only human she’d ever _met_ , it like concentrated Stockholm’s-“ the protesting girl snarls, scowling as Frat Boy opens his mouth to interrupt.

“An interesting point,” the TA says loudly, obviously scenting an argument and trying to head it off. “Pygmalion is pretty unclear on the concept of consent. Does that translate across the eras?”

“Just because the story doesn’t _say_ he asked, doesn’t mean he didn’t,” some guy from the back offers up.

Just barely loud enough to be heard, shy girl mutters, “they never do.”

Jyn wants to hit something. She glances at Cass- at Andor, who’s eyes fix on Shy Girl for a long moment before resuming their restless scan. For just a moment, his eyes meet Jyn’s, but then he nearly flinches away and Jyn feels perversely cheated.

A mixed chorus of offended male voices muddle together for a moment, then protesting girl finally snaps over the objections, “Sure, “not all men,” but even all you heroes never ask _enough_.”

“What, stop and ask permission every few minutes?” Frat Boy’s using that ‘Reasonable Man Talking to Hysterical Girl’ tone that makes Jyn want to plant her boot in his face. “Wouldn’t that, you know,” his frat buddies snigger, and he grins good naturedly and holds his hands out as if he’s just making an awkward but necessary point. “It ruins the _mood_ ,” he laughs, and Jyn’s just about had enough.

“You’re joking, right?” Her derision rings out into the room, and the suddenness of her participation seems to startle a few people. Even Andor’s face seems to sharpen into faint surprise, and for some reason that irritates Jyn even more. That’s the best he can do, is it? Vague astonishment that fades instantly back into disinterest? What, is he shocked that she disagrees with Frat Boy? Does _he_ disagree with Frat Boy?

Jyn scowls at the world at large and leans forward, feeling riled and judged and spoiling for a fight. From the way Frat Boy leans back a little, slight sneer already on his face, he has clearly already written off whatever she’s about to say as a “feminist rant.”

Instead, Jyn suddenly twists her face into a small smile, and drops her voice. “Hey,” she says softly. “I want to take your shirt off. Can I?”

The room goes dead silent, and though she keeps her eyes on Frat Boy’s shocked face, she doesn’t miss how Andor jumps slightly, as if she slapped him.  Jyn lets her smile get a little wider, a little more inviting. “I want to kiss down your stomach,” she goes on, looking Frat Boy dead in the eye and noting the fierce blush working its way up his pasty neck. “Would you mind? I want,” Jyn dips her head downward, flicks her eyes down at Frat Boy’s lap, then back up in time to see him swallow, hard. “I want to put my hands down your trousers and touch you until you’re hard. May I?” Jyn places both her hands flat on her desk as if she’s about to push herself up, or maybe climb up over it towards him.  She raises her voice slightly, lets it take an edge. It helps distract her from her own slight blush she can feel working its way across her chest (fortunately, her face rarely flushes unless she’s really worked up, and imagining sex with Frat Boy is not nearly enough). She keeps her voice low and suggestive, but bites down on her consonants, quickens the rhythm of her words. “May I push you down and ride you? I want to ride you until you come, is that alright? Would you like that? Do you like this pace? I want to go faster, is that okay? Do you want me to go harder?”

Frat Boy stares at her like a deer in headlights, and abruptly Jyn turns from him to Shy Girl across the aisle. From the corner of her eye, she can see that the bored expression is definitely gone from Andor’s face, but she doesn’t stop to examine what’s replaced it, because Shy Girl already has her mouth hanging slightly open as she stares, and Jyn tries to soften her smile. “Hey,” she starts over, voice gentling again, “I want to put my mouth on you. Would you like that?”

Shy Girl actually gasps. To her right, Jyn can hear Andor moving, slowly drawing his stretched-out legs up and almost sluggishly pushing himself upright in his seat. Jyn takes a breath, and ups the ante. “I want the taste of you on my tongue, would that be okay? I want to push your thighs apart and lick you until you moan. Do you want that?” Jyn tilts her head at Shy Girl and raises her eyebrows as if she’s hoping for a response. “If I did, would you moan for me?”

Shy Girl is bright red and staring. The rest of the class is fidgety; there’s the sound of people shifting their weight and a few soft murmurs. Cassian, after his initial change in position, is as still as a rock. She can’t even hear him breathing now. Jyn almost turns and checks, but some last shred of sanity stops her in time. Instead, she flicks her gaze back over to Frat Boy, who is almost as red as Shy Girl.  “Where do you want my tongue?” She licks her lips slightly, and Frat Boy swallows again. “Tell me. Show me. Touch me. Let me touch you. _Please_.”

“Well, fuck,” Frat Boy bursts out, and Jyn grins, triumphant.

Instantly, she drops the smile, leans back casually in her chair and shrugs as if nothing extraordinary just happened. “If you think asking for consent _ruins the mood_ ,” she throws his words back at him derisively, “then, darling, you aren’t doing it right.”

“Um,” the TA laughs a little nervously into the silent room, “ten minute break?”

It breaks the spell, and the room fills with noise. Frat Boy gets up and walks rigidly out of the room, waving half-heartedly in acknowledgement as some of his buddies laugh and cat call. “Hey, no shame, dude,” one of them yells cheerfully. “She nailed you good!” His buddies seem to think this is the height of wit, because they practically fall out of their seats as Frat Boy strides out the door. And good riddance, too.

A few people near her try to chat with Jyn, clearly hoping they can get more dirty talk out of her, but she gives them her best Not Interested face and they back off quickly enough. Shy Girl keeps shooting her what she probably thinks are covert looks under her eyelashes. If she were closer to the door, Jyn would already be out of here and wouldn’t bother to come back.

Cassian – _Andor_ – still hasn’t moved.

As casually she can, Jyn props her chin on her fist and looks over at him. To her extreme annoyance, the neutral, semi-bored expression is back on his face, his eyes half shut as if he’s about to fall asleep. Jyn resists the urge to smack her forehead, or maybe his. She’s so irritated by his face that she almost doesn’t register the rest of his body language. Rather than his laconic sprawl, Andor sits as ramrod straight as a boy in a particularly strict boarding school.  His hands, no longer folded over his stomach, are braced on either knee.

Wait. _Wait._ Did she just provoke an honest-to-God reaction out of Andor? Dispassionate, deflecting, disassociated _Cassian_ _Andor_?

Not that she’s interested or anything, but…well, alright, despite that infuriating blankness, he actually is really attractive. And when he can be buggered to interact with the rest of them, he has really interesting things to say. And yeah, alright, Jyn sort of has a _thing_ for his voice, though she’ll throw herself on her sword before she admits it out loud.

So the idea that she’s finally gotten something out of him, even unintentionally, is incredibly compelling. Then again, good posture aside, he’s not exactly giving her much confirmation.

The hell with it.

Jyn meets his eyes, drops her voice below the babble of the classroom, and without changing her expression at all, asks, “If I asked, would you let me put my mouth on you?”

This time, she can tell for sure that he isn’t breathing, because she actually sees his chest go still for a moment before he takes a breath. Jyn’s trying hard to look just as unaffected as he does, but she can’t help the smirk that tugs at her lips. She’s _got_ him. But when she looks back up at his face, the smirk abruptly dies.

He’s staring at her, and his eyes are still half-closed but no longer restless, and definitely not bored. Jyn’s breath catches a little, because she loves a challenge too much not to recognize it on someone else’s face.

“If I did,” he answers her quietly, in that rough, lilting voice, “would you moan for me?”

Oh, Jyn thinks, _shit._

He's _got_ her.

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to write smut. Instead, I managed to write explicit material wherein no one touches anyone! I have no excuse for this.


End file.
